


To Live Is To Sin

by HoneyGrunge



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Anal Sex, Angst, Atlas CEO Rhys, Blasphemy, Caning, Choking, Crossdressing, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Gangbang, Hate Sex, Hurt Jack, Internalized Homophobia, Light Bondage, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masochism, No Incest, Not Underage, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Priest Kink, Roman Catholicism, Schoolboy Rhys, Sexual Coercion, Stockings, Strangulation, Tags May Change, Teacher-Student Relationship, Temptation, Wax Play, it gets happier i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-10-30 03:42:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17821190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyGrunge/pseuds/HoneyGrunge
Summary: When he discovers that young Rhys struggles to control his sexual temptations, Father Jack decides to offer some misguided assistance. The situation gets rather complicated...Jack's twin brother (and fellow priest) Timothy can't help but get dragged into the mess. But unfortunately for all three of them, this isn't just something you can run away from, and there will be consequences later on. The vast majority is Rhack.>Rhys is an 18 year old student in this fic>Jack is written fairly OOC for the first three chaps but you'll see why, most other characterizations deviate from canon at least slightly all the way through, especially Rhys





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



> I wanted to write this for my lovely mutual dauverney, who thought up the plot of this fic! 
> 
> It's her idea, I'm doing the writing and just a bit of plot collaboration ♡ please check out her art on Tumblr, Twitter, and/or Insta, she's amazing!!

"Master Rhys!"

The commanding voice yanks the young man out of his daydream as a wooden cane descends on his bony knuckles. He squeaks in agony, jamming the smarting appendage between his thighs while his cheeks burn a deep shade of pink.

"Your parents do not pay for you to nod off in class, boy," Jack scolds, sweeping back up to the front of the classroom.

"Care to tell us what you were daydreaming about?"

Classmates titter and Rhys shyly glances up at his teacher. The man's piercing mismatched eyes stare back, boring into the young adult's very soul. Sharp cheekbones cast shadows over his features as the soft light of the window illuminates his figure. His defined lips are pouty in the angled light, causing Rhys's heartrate to spike.

How can he be truthful when mere seconds ago he was imagining those very lips between his legs, which has become one of his favorite pastimes since he started this class?

"N-nothing sir," Rhys whispers.

"Ahhhh, a liar. God detests liars, master Rhys. Two Hail Mary's right this instant."

Rhys obediently recites the prayer, shy eyes wandering back up to Jack's steely facial expression during the punishment. Is he imagining it...or are the teacher's cheeks sporting a minuscule touch of pink? Are his lips really parted, unable to look away from the boy's saucy, thick lashed eyes?

No. Of course not. Priests are pure.  
They're not sexual men.

But that's not what Vaughn had told him. 

Rhys banishes the sacrilegious thought from his head and focuses on the English essay, painstakingly practicing his flourished script. The minutes tick by slowly, but finally, the class is dismissed. He crams his script book into his satchel and tries to scurry away, but before he can leave, Jack intervenes.

"Master Rhys!"

The student freezes, slowly turning as the rest of the class drains out into the hallway. His teacher beckons him over, sitting down and shuffling papers about in agitation. Rhys approaches, a look of vague uncertainty plastered across his fair face.

"Master Rhys...you've been very absent in our classes lately. Is anything the matter?"

Jack's eyes are soft, regarding Rhys with a caring and gentle demeanor. The edges of his lips are curled up in a slight smile. A tinge of desperation arches his sculpted brows. 

Perhaps Rhys hasn't been seeing things, then.

"No, Father. Well.....yes. I....." 

Rhys is unable to finish, curling in on himself like a threatened animal. 

"Is it sexual?" Jack whispers.

Rhys's eyes snap wide, and his mouth falls open. The last thing he expected was for the word 'sex' to come out Jack's beautiful mouth. He stutters, blushing again when Jack gives him a teasing smile.

"I am a priest, Rhys. I deal with sins all the time. So, it is then?"

Rhys nods, utterly mortified at the situation he's gotten himself into. Why couldn't he have thought with his northern head instead of his cockhead??

Jack tuts, folding his hands on the desk and sighing.

"Do you touch yourself, master Rhys?"

"Y-yes," Rhys blurts, now desperate to get this over with.

"How frequently?"

"Twice a day, usually," Rhys whispers, tears welling up in his large, youthful eyes.

"Twice?? Dear God boy. You must stop that at once. Here, take some scriptures to recite whenever the urge tempts you," Jack sighs, handing Rhys a prepackaged bundle of hand recorded script.

"Now go, or you will be late for your next class," Jack commands, shooing his student out the door and locking it behind him.

Jack stares at the door, chewing his lip and letting his eyes flutter when he imagines the young man masturbating. Those dainty hands wrapped around his ruddy cock, perhaps two fingers pushed into his own bottom. 

The teacher recites his own Hail Mary's while his hand busies itself, stroking his sizable cock until his warm seed spurts to the floor beneath the desk. His breath hitches but he doesn't miss a word, crossing himself and taking a shaky breath after wiping his hand off.

Why did HE have to get the cutest little virgin in the entire academy?

 

 

 

Rhys grits his teeth, shifting and grunting when his sensitive erection slides against the sheets. He sighs in exasperation and finally reaches for the scripture packet. Grumbling, he rips the simple binding, hell bent on no longer being a disgrace to the academy. A sinner, soiled and disgusting.

He makes it through the first two sheets with no incident, but the game changes when he reveals the third sheet.

That's no scripture.

THAT is hand-illustrated pornography.

Rhys gapes, cock twitching against his thigh as he stares. A larger man is pinning down a smaller man by the throat; the smaller man's legs are in the air, ankles resting on the top's shoulders. 

Had...had Father Jack MEANT to slip him this? 

Was Father Jack...corrupt?

"NO," Rhys vehemently whispers to himself. He mustn't disrespect a priest like that. 

Obviously Jack had slipped it to him to see if he could resist it.

So Rhys shoves it into a drawer, slamming it closed and doing his best to finish the prayers. His neglected erection finally subsides, leaving a tiny wet patch of precum on his thigh. 

He slides into bed and drifts into slumber, dreaming of strong hands, talented lips, and large cocks.

 

 

"Rhys!"

Rhys turns, giving Jack a miserable glower but obediently marching over to his desk. Jack had been ignoring him ever since their little discussion. He hadn't even disciplined Rhys for daydreaming this past week.

To be quite honest, Rhys misses it.

"How is it going?" he asks, his voice a conspiratorial whisper.

Rhys shrugs, worrying at his sleeve.

"I've been wetting the bed," he admits.

Jack's brows shoot up, a look of (suspiciously fake) surprise coloring his handsome face.

"Ah! That's just the evil desires leaving your body," Jack reassures. "But...if this isn't working that well...there is another way."

Rhys cocks his head, curious.

"Another?"

"Yes. It's called exposure purity. You put yourself in situations of temptation and do your best to resist it," the teacher explains. "For instance...if you find yourself liking men, you could look at a man's cock."

Rhys blinks, staring at Jack with a look of desperation.

"Does it work?"

"For some, yes."

"But...I...I don't know anyone I trust enough to do that with," Rhys admits, misery creeping back across his face.

"Master Rhys...pardon the correction, but you do have ONE," Jack says.

This time it clicks. Rhys blushes, refusing to look Jack in his flawless face. 

"It's quite all right Rhys, I only want to help," the teacher whispers, reaching out and grabbing the younger man's wrist.

He draws the slender hand over and settles it on his bulge, pronounced through his tight fitting robe. Rhys whines in shock, staring incredulously down at his hand on Jack's rather large manhood.

"What are you thinking, Rhys?" he prods, pressing the hand down harder.

"I want you," Rhys blurts, unable to help himself.

"Good. Good, admit the sin. Now..." he whispers, releasing the hand and reaching down to unwrap the robe. He digs and spreads his legs, grunting when his half mast cock spills out. 

This time Rhys touches it of his own volition.

"Now....what are you thinking?" Jack demands.

"I WANT you," Rhys moans, squeezing the thick shaft and watching a droplet of precum ooze out of the pink slit.

"What do you want exactly?"

Jack's eyes are slitted, jaw flexing as he goads Rhys to admit every last sinful desire.

"I...I want to suck you. And let you...take my virginity," Rhys sobs, tears spilling out of his blue eyes.

"Shhhhh, shhh, it's all right. I promise you won't go to hell for this progress," Jack soothes, gently nudging Rhys's hand away and covering himself back up. "You've done well, I'm proud of you."

Rhys nods, snatching up his satchel and hurrying back to his dorm room. Desperate, he yanks his robes apart and pulls himself out, knees buckling while he indulges himself for the first time in a week. He chokes back the wanton moans with a pale hand, eyes rolling back into his head as he ejaculates onto his desk. He teeters, catching himself on the edge of the wooden furniture and milking his cock for every last drop. Relief floods his deprived system; he sighs while rinsing his cock and hand off in a basin.

Before bed, Rhys studies himself in the mirror. He knows he's desirable, since many of the town girls had fought over the right to hold his hand at social functions.

But girls never made him feel this way. 

Only Jack has made him this desperate.

He dabs a bit of his mother's rouge onto his cheeks and lips, darkening his lashes with the mascara cake as a final touch. He pouts into the mirror, determination steeling his angelic good looks.

If exposure purity is going to work for him, it needs to be the real deal.

 

 

Jack is working on paperwork when he hears the knock, pulling off his glasses and walking over to pull the door open.

"Yes?" 

He freezes when he sees Rhys, taking in the young man's obviously made up face and...were those STOCKINGS under his robe??

"I was thinking about what you said...and I think...maybe I need a more extreme version of exposure, Father?" Rhys breathes, pushing himself up against the larger and older man.

Jack shoves him away with a hiss.

"You...you saucy MINX," he chastises, glaring down at Rhys with venom. "Has a devil possessed you??"

"Perhaps," Rhys giggles, reaching down to paw at Jack's crotch.

Jack gives him a fierce smack, looking flustered and afraid. Rhys cries, but only looks more determined, following Jack as he retreats into his dorm.

"Why...I ought to punish you for this devilry," he hisses, snatching up his cane and waving it threateningly. "Bend over!"

Rhys eagerly complies, pulling up his robes and flaunting his stolen stockings. Jack stares, fighting the urge to rub himself at the filthy sight. But he resists, bringing the cane down in its first sharp thwack. Rhys rewards him with a pained whimper; Jack's cock jumps at the beautiful noise.

"Be quiet," Jack wavers, bringing a masculine hand down on the small of Rhys's back. He canes his student with a vengeance, leaving swollen welts and a few bloody tears in the flesh of his supple bottom. 

Rhys suffers ten lashes, sobbing into Jack's desk and clawing the wood. 

"Jaaaaaack," Rhys moans.

And with that, Jack's resolve snaps.

He yanks Rhys up by the collar, pressing down on his shoulders to get him to kneel. He fumbles to open his robes, crying out when Rhys simply plunges his warm hands in and grasps the eager, hardened flesh. As soon as his cock springs free, Rhys's soft lips are closing around him, slick tongue swiping across his slit.

Jack's knees buckle as smooth fingers cup his balls. He stumbles backwards, falling into his seat and twining thick fingers into Rhys's soft hair. The other man blinks up at him coyly, struggling but trying his best to pleasure Jack's thick cock. What he lacks in skill he more than makes up for with enthusiasm. 

"You've been such a bad, bad boy," Jack rasps, yanking the fine hair and reveling in Rhys's whimper.

Jack abruptly pushes Rhys away, grabbing him by the arm and slamming him up against the desk.

"You want to act like Satan's whore, then I'll treat you like it," Jack snarls, ripping the slender man's robes off and sinking to his knees in front of the thoroughly caned ass.

He leans forward, pulling apart the abused cheeks and gazing down at the eager hole. Rhys has painstakingly cleansed himself in preparation for this moment, Jack can tell. Not an odor in the air. Just the pleasant scent of rosewater and myrrh.

So Jack plunges in, tongue fucking Rhys's clenching hole until the young man has to bite his own hand to keep from screaming. A large hand reaches around to jerk him off, almost entirely enveloping his pale cock.

Jack eats him out like a starving man, moaning and grunting until Rhys gasps and shrieks out an orgasmic cry. He bucks, cum dribbling over Jack's fingers and hole spasming around his thick tongue.

Jack expects him to cool down, but he only gets more desperate. 

"More, Father, MORE!" Rhys demands. "Please, punish me!"

Jack complies, standing back up and positioning himself at the eager sinner's needy heat. He nudges mercilessly, murmuring dirty talk while Rhys whimpers in pain. Finally, his silky warmth envelops the flared head. Jack curses as if he were possessed himself, thrusting in roughly until he's balls deep. His hand is covering Rhys's dirty mouth to hide his screams, but the muffled noises are still enough to incense him.

Jack's hips snap; Rhys bites his hand to silence himself. 

And then he's fucking the smaller man with abandon, grunting and snarling while his years of pent of denial are released in this tight little virgin.

This is almost worth being cast through the gates of hell.

Jack's peak is unfortunately close, so he flips Rhys and maneuvers him into his favorite position: the hand drawn chokehold.

Rhys gurgles as he squeezes his fair, elegant throat, heels digging into Jack's broad shoulders and eyes rolling up into his head. Jack's pace is brutal, the flat plane of his groin pummeling Rhys's bloody and bruised ass. Unable to withstand the onslaught, Rhys cums once more, bucking like a madman and screaming silently through the strangulation.

"You're the most heavenly thing I've ever seen," Jack gasps, throwing his head back when his own peak finally hits.

He can't help but wail as he releases. The sight and sensation are too much; drowning his senses in long forgotten ecstasy. Rhys watches him fall apart with a look of awe, holding Jack's hand through the intense climax.

Finally, Jack slumps. Tears slide down his cheeks and Rhys kisses them into his skin, wrapping slender arms and legs around the priest's stocky form.

"F-forgive me father...forgive me Rhys...I...I am a failure," Jack sobs, nuzzling into Rhys's smooth throat.

"Surely it isn't a crime to be lonely, Father," Rhys whispers as Jack carries him to his bed.

"To live is to sin," Jack murmurs, pulling Rhys close to his chest. 

Rhys burrows, inhaling Jack's homemade cologne and slight musk.

He decides this very instant that purity is highly overrated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr and Twitter: Maedhros36  
> I hope you enjoyed <333


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some sexual coercion in this chap, and some dubious consent, but all parties are ultimately willing.
> 
> Also, I'm not Catholic and have never been to a mass so apologies if this is inaccurate at any point lol!

TWO MONTHS LATER

"What's gotten into you, Jack?"

The daydreaming man starts, glancing over at his identical twin brother. A slight blush graces his cheeks and he clears his throat, resuming his task of replacing religious texts back on the library shelves.

"Nothing...just thinking about my devotion study from this morning," Jack mumbles.

The freckled priest blinks, giving him "that look". It was the exact same look their mother had always given them when they got up to no good...or when she knew they were lying.

"Right. You know you can tell me anything Jack, I'm not the Inquisition."

"I know...I just don't want to get you involved," Jack sighs.

Timothy studies his brother's side profile: the tired droop of his eyes, the hunched shoulders, the blatant look of guilt. He's never seen Jack this distraught. But he respects his brother, so he will wait. Jack will come to him eventually; he always does when he reaches his breaking point. And Tim is always there, building his unstable brother back up when he falls.

He stands, walking up behind Jack and sliding a loving hand onto his shoulder.

"I just worry, Jack. Don't carry unnecessary weight all by yourself, brother."

Jack nods, continuing to shelve until Timothy leaves. He sits, sliding down in a chair until his chin touches his chest, glaring at the ancient bible in front of him.

Why must his conscience be so LOUD?

 

 

 

Rhys slips a slender hand down his silk pajama pants, opening the lowest drawer of his desk and selecting his favorite drawing. Jack had given him a self portrait: a mirror study of the older man masturbating. His cock is clutched in his hand and his head is lolled to the side, eyes slitted as he pleasures himself to the thought of his favorite student.

He has to hurry, or he'll be late for mass. So he strokes himself fast and hard, desperate for his teacher's touch but unable to have it anytime he wants. Jack has made him his altar boy, but if they spend TOO much time together the bishops will start to notice the dalliances.

And it's not unheard of for priests to be burned at the stake or stoned behind the scenes for this caliber of sin: breaking the sacraments, AND committing homosexuality.

Rhys hurries the process by slipping his hand up and rubbing the ultra sensitive wet slit; moaning as his cock twitches, biting back a yelping moan when he nears the edge.

But just then, a knock at the door.

"Rhys!!" Vaughn calls, banging rudely. "Come on, get off your ass, you're gonna be late!"

Rhys growls, accidentally squeezing his cock hard enough to make himself squeak. Fortunately the action softens him, if only a little, so he sighs and mutters as he stands.

He can already feel the blue balls setting in.

 

 

 

Tonight is Timothy's mass. Attendance is compulsory; most of the students will nod off or commit various acts of mischief during the ceremony. But Tim doesn't care. This is between he and God, for all intents and purposes. Miscreants be damned.

Little does he know that his own brother is one of said miscreants.

"Rhys, I am glad you made it on time....for once," Jack praises, giving his assistant a sly glance and patting the seat next to him.

Rhys slides in, acting as if he's dropped his bible and leaning in to give the priest's crotch a forceful kiss. He sits back up and smirks, returning his attention to the podium when Jack bites his lip. Their seats are secluded from the rest of the sanctuary, hand picked by Jack to allow for secret, unholy sexual acts during mass. The spacey, echoing room is fairly well lit by soft evening light bleeding through the stained glass windows. Students file in as the hour closes, and Tim finally enters to set up for his sermon. 

"I was looking at that picture you drew for me," Rhys whispers.

"Oh? Which one?"

"You pleasuring yourself....it's my favorite. The way your eyes look, your belly, your thighs...and your cock," Rhys breathes.

"You are an imp," Jack purrs, reaching down to squeeze Rhys's thigh in a possessive grip.

"If I'm an imp, you're the devil himself," Rhys simpers, obediently standing when the choir music begins. 

The altar boy doesn't let Jack rest during the hymns, reaching a curious hand around to tease his cock into wakefulness through his robes. Jack steps on his toes to get him to stop, but it only fuels Rhys's efforts, eventually cupping Jack and letting him grind into the warm palm.

"Rhys, stop it, we must wait until the candles are lit," Jack hisses, suddenly authoritative and serious. 

Rhys nods, obediently dropping his hand. He knows how serious this situation could get; he isn't stupid. He respects Jack too much to put him at even more risk. 

"Congregation, we gather here tonight to rejoice in the blessings of the Lord......" Tim begins, ending the worship and signaling the beginning of the mass.

The minutes drip by like molasses, the odd couple's excitement building as the sun slowly finds its slumber and Rhys leaves to help light the candles. When he returns, he's gingerly rubbing a finger, pouting and thunking himself back down into the seat.

"Why the face?" Jack chuckles.

"Burnt my finger with wax."

"Mmmmm....you know, a lot of people use wax for...certain private purposes," Jack suggests, winking when Rhys smiles up at him knowingly. 

"And the Lord said..." Tim preaches.

Rhys's hand creeps up Jack's solid thigh, initiating their mass ritual.

"....resisting temptation is the most important task of a Catholic...."

Jack knocks his hand away with a scoff, reaching over and yanking Rhys up onto his lap. The student bites back a gasp and leans into his chest, keeping himself out of the view of the Congregation. The candles nearest them sputter at the gust of air from Rhys's robes, casting fluttering shadows over the pair's sharp features.

"....a conscience may be seared numb by the sins...."

Something was searing, but it definitely wasn't going numb.

"Such a nasty little whore," Jack whispers, rocking Rhys back against his erection and digging warm hands through the robes.

"Only yours," Rhys moans.

Talented fingers are teasing him, ghosting up his shaft and wiggling against his frenulum. He grumbles, thrusting against the hands, desperately searching for more friction.

"Mmmmm, we can't get those new robes dirty," Jack chuckles.

Jack is relentless, reaching down to tease Rhys's perineum and balls until the slender man is whining. 

"Brother Jack..." Timothy says.

Rhys is thrown off his lap fast enough to cause mild whiplash, giggling like a madman while Jack jumps up and goes to help Tim prepare the Communion. Rhys glances after the priest, noting the redness of Jack's face. Only then does he catch sight of Tim, standing in a position that puts the couple in his direct line of sight. But he doesn't appear to have noticed anything, smiling warmly at Rhys and turning back around when Jack meets him.

Tim is the one Rhys takes his communion from this time, glancing up and offering a shy smile while he breaks his bread. Tim blinks at him, cocking a brow and studying his disheveled appearance. But he doesn't do anything else, probably assuming that the student may have fallen asleep during the sermon. Rhys blushes, heart thudding and ears burning as he walks back to his seat.

He banishes any frightening thoughts and resolves that tonight, he'll have to ask Jack to teach him about the wax.

 

 

 

"I don't think it's a good idea to keep doing this."

Rhys stares at Jack from across the bed, his robe half pulled off. The priest's body language is closed; arms crossed tight against his chest and dead set on keeping distance between them. It isn't like Rhys hadn't expected this to happen, but it's still a shock considering how fiesty Jack had been earlier just that evening.

And how tightly he held him at night.

"...do you want the drawings back?" Rhys whispers, pulling the robe up over his bare shoulders.

"No, just keep them."

An awkward silence ensues as Rhys unceremoniously slings his satchel over his head. Jack refuses to look at him, back turned as he busily shuffles his class papers. Trying his best to be nonchalant, Rhys moves to the door, sullenly glancing back at the other man.

"See you in class tomorrow."

 

 

 

But Rhys didn't see him in class.

Another priest had taken Jack's place, a far more strict (and much less attractive) older man of about 60 years named Father Martin. Rhys did all he could to search after Jack and eventually found out that he'd asked to be moved to the library, citing stress and internal struggles as his reasoning.

But meanwhile, the only internal struggles Rhys was having was a mighty need for SOMETHING in his ass.

He was using the drawings nearly every day, and they offered relief, but it just wasn't enough. He craved - ached for - hands, warmth, the weight of a body next to him in a bed. But he dare not ask Jack. 

....what about Timothy?

Rhys had never really paid that much attention to Jack's twin, except to note that his hair was a tad more red and his cheeks were freckled. 

But Rhys wasn't just thinking about his hair.

His cock had to be the same impressive size too.

So, in his desperation, Rhys began his seduction. Offering to help with mass preparations, making sure his robes were partially open at the neck. Dabbing the SLIGHTEST smudges of rouge on his lips and cheeks. Purposefully brushing a soft hand over Tim's slightly rougher one; bumping their hips.

After a few nights, the priest's eyes began to linger. But he still remained chaste, glancing away when Rhys tried to catch him red-handed. An entire month was spent trapped in this silent teeter totter of desire until Rhys just couldn't take the abstinence anymore.

He'll get what he wants, one way or another.

 

 

 

Rhys sneaks into the priest's quarters and searches the confessional logs. Jack, Martin, Robert, Terrence.....and finally, Timothy. 5 pm on Saturday night.

He'll be missing a party, but if he succeeds, this will be more than worth it.

Waiting until Saturday is agonizing. When it finally arrives, Rhys performs his strict routine, slightly out of practice after having been deprived for almost two months now. But he's finally ready, dabbing perfume between his legs and on his throat, sliding the silky stockings up his thighs.

Time to move in for the kill.

Rhys is sitting in Tim's booth before the priest even arrives, hand slipped beneath his robes and entire body quivering with anticipation. What will Timothy be like? Is he rougher than Jack, or milder? What will his favorite part of Rhys be? Will he come back for more, picking up where Jack had left off?

His fantasies are finally interrupted by the wooden clack of the door, a soft rush of air presenting Rhys's tantalizing scent to the priest's nose. Rhys lets go of himself and sits up, glancing through the latticed divider at the angular edge of Tim's jaw.

Fucking Christ, how he wanted to bite and lick that beautiful face.

"Forgive me father for I have sinned," Rhys whispers, not waiting for Tim to greet him.

"Please confess your sins, child," the man returns. If he knows that it's Rhys, he doesn't let on.

"I....I have been sexually impure."

"What is the nature of your sin?"

"I fucked a priest," Rhys blurts, turning his face to stare at his listener's profile.

"Did he tempt you or abuse you?" Tim asks after a long, inscrutable pause.

"No....well, maybe he tempted me a little. He showed me his cock, in our classroom. But I wanted to see it. And I liked what I saw, so I put on makeup and women's garments, and went to his room....God, he fucked me so hard over his desk," Rhys whines, voice breathy and lusty. "I sucked him too...he tasted so delicious, so salty."

Tim's head is turned now, heterochromatic eyes wide and staring. Rhys meets his gaze, leaning his head back while capturing the priest's attention. He spreads his legs, opening the student's robes and silk underwear to expose his erect cock.

"Stop this. Stop it at once. I will let you leave without reporting you for sexual misconduct, but-"

Rhys moans, and Tim bites his tongue. An insistent erection is tenting his cassock, and it's taking all of his restraint not to join the young man in mutual masturbation.

"Have you ever been touched, Tim?" Rhys whispers, pressing his face against the wood.

".........once," Tim admits, shyly meeting the hungry gaze.

"I wanna touch you, Tim."

"God...please stop," Tim pleads, leaning forward and hanging his head.

He's going to give in. Rhys can taste the blood in the water already.

"Come on father, that erection must be getting painful by now...surely it wouldn't hurt just to pull it out and touch it with me?" 

Tim blinks, rubbing his face with his hands.

"I'll suck you if you like."

The priest jumps as Rhys suddenly exits, hurrying around and pulling the door open to Tim's side. The older man balks, pushing himself into the corner while the insistent student invades his space.

Rhys blinks down at him, reaching out to caress his jaw.

"If you want it, say no, so God will judge me as the guilty one," he suggests. 

"It doesn't work like that," Tim groans, thunking his head back against the wall when Rhys slides into his lap.

"You REALLY think all those other priests are pure?" Rhys hisses, switching tactics as lithe fingers dig into the heavy black robe. "They've all broken their vows, probably even Martin. Some of them even fuck little boys. This is nothing compared to those monsters."

Tim just stares at him, eyes fluttering closed when an eager hand tears through his cassock and bears his pulsing cock to the cool air. The red lips are instantly on him, sucking and licking in ways that he's never even dreamed of. His only experience had been with a woman, young and inexperienced like he had been.

And Jack has taught Rhys just how to please and unravel a man.

"Father, that art in heaven, hallowed be thy name...." Tim babbles, desperately clutching at his recitations to help him resist the situation. 

Rhys lets his cockhead go with a pop and a giggle, gently flicking a prominent vein.

"Not exactly the best dirty talk but if it makes you feel better, go ahead."

Tim continues, sliding back in the wooden pew as Rhys climbs back up onto him and pulls a small vial of oil from his pocket, drizzling it all over Tim's twitching length. He grabs Tim's trembling hand and lubes it, pressing the digits up against his eager hole and letting out a wanton moan when the priest pushes them in.

"Oh GOD, TIM!"

"Shut up!" Tim hisses. "Someone will hear you!"

"Mmmmmm that's more like it," Rhys purrs, sinking down onto the hot column of flesh as soon as Tim withdraws his hand.

Tim gasps, mouth falling open and eyebrow twitching. Rhys clutches around him, leaning forward to press wet kisses into his Adam's apple. With a trembling voice, Tim resumes his prayers, grunting and moaning through them as the pace quickens. Rhys bounces like a madman, head thrown back and nails scraping Tim's neck, drawing blood and tiny whines. 

"L-lead me not, UH, into temptation, mmgh," Tim squeaks, wide eyes fixated on Rhys's pale, slender form and snapping hips.

"Oh, OH, Tim I'm cumming!" Rhys chokes, reaching down to pump himself, biting back his moans. 

Spurts of cum paint Tim's cassock and he freezes, hands clutching Rhys's hips as he finally starts fucking into him at a brutal pace. 

"Yeah, yeah, mmmmm come on father, fuck me like the sinner you are, you've been so depriiiiiiiived, I bet you touched yourself thinking about me....did you touch yourself?" the tempter whispers in the sinner's ear.

"YES!" Tim hisses, bucking and grunting as his eyes roll back in his head. "Yes, yes, oh god yes," he sobs, overstimulated by Rhys's still rolling pelvis.

Rhys peaks one more time, planting generous kisses all over Tim's exposed skin and sucking one love bite into his left pectoral. Voices echo in the sanctuary and Rhys finally climbs off, leaning down to lick up the mess and wipe away the rest with a handkerchief he'd stuffed in his pocket for this purpose alone.

"Thank you, father," he praises, leaning in for one last kiss.

Then he's gone, leaving a mess of a man behind. Tim cries, clutching his rosary and begging for forgiveness. He'd enjoyed every last second of it, even the forcefulness.

Now he understands why Jack had been so distraught.

 

 

 

"Jack...."

Jack turns, starting at the sight of his thoroughly fucked brother.

"Tim...what...have....have you been raped???" Jack cries, rushing forward to pull his brother close.

"No, no....I was tempted and I gave in," he sighs, sliding down to sit on Jack's bed. 

He looks up at Jack, a knowing look on his lipstick marked face.

"It was Rhys, wasn't it?" Tim whispers.

".......yes."

"Is it more complicated than just sex?"

Jack doesn't answer, walking back to his desk and grabbing his prayer bible. He sits next to Tim, pulling it open and preparing to help his brother gain forgiveness. 

"I would like to say it isn't...but I'm not so sure anymore."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This shit hurted. Also sorry for taking SO fucking long on this, ugh. BUT BL3 AMIRIGHT????
> 
> Btw there's a CONSENSUAL gangbang in this chap so if that isn't your thing, fair warning. And the sexual content will probably be pretty low for at least the upcoming chapter, I can only shoehorn so much lmaooo

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Rhys stretches and blinks, yawning and craning his neck to watch the familiar sight of a disheveled priest working through the haphazard stack of graduation theses on his desk. Jack hears the rustling and turns, sitting up to walk over and brush a strand of hair off of Rhys's forehead. 

"Morning, my sweet pumpkin," he whispers, locking the student in with his arms and nuzzling a soft kiss into his pale cheek. "I skipped breakfast to spend more time with you before you leave for break...but you could still always come visit my family estate instead of going back to your boring old dad."

The desperation in Jack's voice is thinly veiled, his blue and green eyes studying Rhys's face for some sort of reassurance.

After the confessional fiasco with Tim, Jack had broken his silence in order to hunt Rhys down and tear into him over his less than Christian behavior and its effect on Tim's depression. And of course once Rhys had explained that he had only done it because he missed Jack so much, the man had simply stared at him, anger and frustration melting away as he misinterpreted Rhys's meaning. 

And thus their nightly rendezvous had resumed, on a more serious note than ever before.

Rhys is fully aware that the priest thinks he's found a lover in the younger man. But Rhys also knows that if Jack doesn't think he has a chance at a relationship with Rhys, he won't actively pursue the sexual side of the coin.

The only side that Rhys really wants.

"I don't know," Rhys whispers, returning the kiss and grinding any thoughts of guilt into dust once again. "My mother still cries every day because she misses me so...I couldn't hurt her feelings, Jack."

The priest nods, looking crestfallen but forcing a smile anyway. He continues the kisses until Rhys nudges him off to escape the clingy affection, slipping a hand down to grasp Jack's soft length and awaken it with a series of rough strokes. Jack eagerly follows suit, pushing Rhys down into the bed and fetching the oil, groaning as he slips into Rhys for what must be the thousandth time now.

"My beautiful little Rhys," he moans, holding the smaller man close as if someone is going to bust down the door and steal him away forever.

Rhys stares at the ceiling as Jack rocks and huffs into his throat, the festering guilt rising like bile as he realizes just what he's doing to this poor man.

But it's too late to turn back now.

 

 

 

"Your mother and I would very much enjoy it if you graduated early, all it would require is a little extra work on your part. Then you could come on vacation with us before taking up your share of the company!"

Rhys smiles and nods, leaning back and barely picking at the grand spread of food set out before him. It's his second day back home, and if he intends to achieve the highlight of his vacation, he must keep it light. Vaughn had invited him to be on the southern docks at the stroke of midnight, where the government-hired pirates call their home.

They're always looking for fresh young meat to warm their beds.

"Rhys? Are you all right?" his mother fawns, reaching out to take his hand. "You're very distant...are you sure there's nothing you'd like to talk about?"

"Sorry, I'm just...rather exhausted from the essays and such...I think I'll head to bed," he sighs, overexaggerating his tired expression and slumping even further back in the chair.

"Well...just be ready for Easter mass tomorrow, darling," his mother says, withdrawing and giving her son a look of parental pride. "So many available young ladies will be attending!!"

Rhys pales as he stands, hurrying away and leaving his parents to discuss the contents of their days. The fact that his parents think him so pure is too much for him, and draws all the memories of Jack back up into his thoughts.

Maybe...he DOES feel something for the affectionate man. Maybe he'll cry when he doesn't have those arms to hold him at night, that charismatic tenor voice to reward him with the most lovely noises in their shared bed.

He could have a loving husband and a quiet life on the Lawrence estate. Tim could find himself a lover to share the humble mansion with them, and none of the innocent farmers would suspect that the four "bachelors" were actually two couples.

But Rhys craves more. He craves money. Power. The wealthy life he's had ever since he was a tiny infant being rocked to sleep in a golden filigree bassinet. And to be a partner in his father's mining company would mean famous exposure to the public eye; it wouldn't be difficult for the newspapers to pick up on the "close male friend" that lives with him for some mysterious reason.

Rhys buries his face in his hands and sighs, reaching for his makeup bag and a clean basin for the enema.

Time to forget these worries and enjoy his vacation.

 

 

 

"He's USING YOU, Jack. He's a hormonal young man with a rich family, do you REALLY think he wants to live on a damn sheep farm with a thirty year old ex-priest?? He's eighteen, he has no clue what he wants except sex!" Tim yells, glaring at his stubborn twin.

"Just because YOU'RE jealous of what we have-," Jack hisses, only to be cut off with a sharp smack.

Tim leans in until their noses are almost touching, red eyes dripping tears and a shaking finger digging into Jack's chest.

"JEALOUS?? Of COURSE I'm jealous. My own brother, MY TWIN, never even wants to talk to me anymore because of some virgin young mancunt that tells you he loves you!!!! YOUR OWN TWIN BROTHER!" Tim screeches, whipping around and charging for the door of Jack's quarters.

"WHY CAN'T YOU JUST BE HAPPY FOR ME??" Jack cries, snatching at Tim's sleeve, cringing when his twin yanks away hard enough to tear it.

"Fuck off," Tim sobs, yanking the door open and leaving Jack to stare at his retreating back, fighting the urge to follow and comfort him. Anger keeps him planted in the doorway, brow furrowed and jaw set as he watches Tim trip and fall, too blinded by his own tears to really see where he's going.

He'll just have to get over it.

 

 

"Mmmmmm, wot's a little poppet like YOUS doin' at these dirty old docks?"

Rhys pauses, shivering as the chilled sea air whips around his scantily clad legs. A scruffy yet handsome man is leering at him from the doorway of a dingey looking bar, holding a pipe and reaching down to rub himself through his torn trousers.

"Looking for fun," Rhys calls, turning and hurrying towards his destination, heartrate spiking as he finally catches sight of black sails billowing in the faint light of the gas lamps. He squints when he sees Vaughn and a few other men waiting for him, waving him over and tittering with excitement. Vaughn shoves a foul smelling cup into his hands and urges him to drink it, smacking him on the back and complimenting his heavily made up eyelids.

"Burns going down but 's AMAZING shtuff, Rhysie," Vaughn slurs, leaning against him until a heavily scarred and terrifying looking man walks up to slip an arm around Rhys's waist. Rhys splutters on his swig of the drink, glancing down at the man's exposed cock with wide eyes.

He's even larger than Jack.

Rhys scowls, berating himself for thinking of his pseudo-lover when he's supposed to be unwinding. The pirate leans down and lets dirty breath wash over Rhys's face, tightening his grip on the slim man's hip and nudging the grog to his pouty lips once more.

"Drink up darlin', yer gonna need et if you want tuh lie with teh likes a me," he grumbles, and Rhys lets his eyes flutter shut as a massive hand reaches down to grope his growing bulge. He quickly downs the rest of the alcohol and allows himself to be dragged into the nearest tavern, vaguely aware that Vaughn is also being corralled along behind him.

The bar's unwashed inhabitants leer at him, at his exposed midriff; his milky, deceptively virgin skin. The pirate brings him up to the front and flings him into the wooden drink bar, winding him with the ferocity of the shove. One of the men next to him reaches around to yank at his short skirt and garters, ripping them and discarding the expensive fabric, sliding hungry hands all over his trembling thighs.

"Y'wenna dress like an easy lassie, ye get fucked like an easy lassie," the familiar voice purrs in his ear, reaching down to push a saliva covered finger up into his hole, yanking a pained yelp out of him. Then he's maneuvered until he's facing the room, legs spread to showcase his pink cock and small balls as he shivers with slight fear.

"Loird a'moighty, jis LOOK et dat perfect likkle cock," an uneducated voice rasps in his ear, his own voice squeaking as a rough hand pinches his tip and thumbs his dripping slit. "Mmmm...cen't be moire den three likkle inches...sure yer naught a wench, boy?"

Gruff laughter fills the bar and his cheeks burn at the insulting praise, back arching and teeth gritting as he feels the thick cock of his main captor nudging at his entrance. The bearded chin tickles the nape of his neck as a tongue laps at his sweat, a filthy finger reaching around to roll his pebbled nipple.

"Wot d'ye want, lad?" he purrs.

"FUCK ME LIKE A WHORE!" Rhys gasps, pushing back against the cockhead until he swallows the flared tip, eyes squeezing closed as his mind wanders. 

Two mismatched eyes staring down. Rolling back as a heated member pushes into his tight hole. Softer hands tracing his nipples, twin voices whispering how lovely he is.

And then the pirate slams home, adding more spit and yanking at Rhys's hips until he's fully seated. Rhys screams, writhing into the men pressing up against him, reaching down to touch their cocks as they frantically pleasure themselves to this rare sight of a gorgeous AND willing young dandy being brutalized by one of their own.

"J-jack!" Rhys gasps, allowing himself to fantasize about the sharp jaw digging into his shoulder, the glimmering white teeth sinking into his flesh, then a smooth tongue licking the bites. His cock is rock hard at the memories; the pain from the massive man's initial intrusion is gone. The grog begins to take its effect, hazing his mind and slurring his desperate moans, and soon he forgets just how many men are spending themselves inside of him. Pirate after pirate, cock after cock, until he's drenched in cum; slumping against the bar being forced to drink water and eat morsels of bread to revive him.

"Yer a perfect specimen lad, don't think I ever had a darlin' as pretty as you," the pirate laughs, stuffing himself back into his pants as an equally tipsy Vaughn totters over to Rhys and drunkenly pats his cheek. 

"Eyyyyyy buddy ol' pal," he giggles, not registering Rhys's emotional tears in the mess of fluids covering his taller friend. "We're gonna get some tats, c'mon!" 

Rhys allows himself to be dragged out of the bar by Vaughn and the unknown party goers, spirits lifting as the fresh air brings his senses back and draws him out of the spiral of memories. Vaughn shoves him into the tattoo artist's chair and he squints at the bright lanterns, studying the offered designs as the man tuts and cleans the mess off of his neck and torso.

"Right love, what would ya like?" 

Rhys blinks and stares out the window, watching the crescent moon cast its soft glow through the window.

"....a moon," he whispers, and the artist rolls his eyes.

"Right, I'll put an artistic spin on it for ya then," he sighs, leaning in and freehanding a sketch down on Rhys's pale neck. One more tear slips out when the artist starts using the needles. He glances back up. "I know it's not pleasant, but it'll be over in a jiffy."

Rhys nods, giving Vaughn his best smile and finally letting himself relax into the chair. Jack's the one to blame for all this, so he deserves what he's going to be feeling in a few short weeks.

He really should've known better.

 

 

 

"I can't believe you leave so soon," Jack whispers, rationing the communion wafers and giving Rhys a sad glance. "Just three days..."

Rhys nods, stealing a wafer and munching on it, allowing Jack to pull him close and squeeze him in a tender hug. His stomach drops, but he's talked himself to the point of no return now.

Tonight he'll break Jack's heart.

"We should do something insane," Jack chuckles, shoving the wafers aside and lifting Rhys up onto the table, pushing up between his long legs. He nips at Rhys' chin, giving him a predatory look. "We should fuck like wild animals on the altar."

Rhys blinks and giggles, shocked that Jack would suggest such a blasphemous move. But the idea makes his cock swell and his hole twitch, so he leans into Jack's touches, purring like a kitten for him.

"Make me your little devil, Father," he groans, wincing as Jack's tongue runs over his still healing tattoo. 

"Mmmm, forgot to ask you where you got that," Jack whispers, picking him up and carrying him bridal style out into the massive sanctuary. 

"I got it on vacation, obviously," Rhys teases, wiggling in Jack's grip. "And...and I also had a gangbang," he adds, hoping that the revelation will make the break easier.

Jack freezes, first a look of shock crossing his face, then a mixture of jealousy and hurt replacing it. But he quickly gathers himself, remembering that they haven't made their relationship exclusive yet, so of course he doesn't have much right to be upset. 

"....with whom?" he tersely asks, gently lowering Rhys onto the altar and walking away to lock all doors leading into the communal worship space.

"Pirates," Rhys answers, blushing when Jack rounds on him with a gaping expression.

"WHAT??" Jack thunders, marching back after locking the final door. "Don't you...don't you have ANY IDEA how dirty those men are?? How many DISEASES they carry??" Jack yells, grabbing Rhys by the shoulders and shaking him. "You could've caught something!! Or been raped, or kidnapped!" 

Rhys rubs soothing circles into Jack's chest, biting his lip as the worried man tears up.

"I feel fine Jack...I just...I needed you so much, I couldn't stop thinking about you, and I needed release...but I wanted to have sex with more than one man, I wanted to experience more," he explains, backpedaling in an attempt to win one more fuck as he watches Jack's expression sour. "And you know what? I imagined all those hands were yours, I came so hard imagining that you were the men all over me."

Jack burrows his face into Rhys's hair, still looking angry but calmer than before, choosing to ignore the overarching risks of Rhys' escapade.

"Christ, love, I'll have to tie you down with a chain to keep you from risking yourself like that again," he purrs, sliding Rhys' school uniform sleeves up and busying himself with licking the pale collarbone, sliding his hands down to massage the sensitive skin between Rhys' thighs. "In fact...I ought to tie you up right now as punishment."

"Please father, please punish me," Rhys breathes, groaning as Jack rips at his cravat and turns him, tying his hands behind his back and giving him a once-over.

"Oh darling," Jack groans, fumbling for matches in his cassock to light the altar candles. "You're such an obedient little slut."

Rhys moans and flops himself over to be flat on his belly, impatiently nuzzling into Jack's robe and sucking his cock as the priest strains to light the highest candle. Rhys takes his time, swirling his tongue slowly, memorizing every vein and curve of his favorite member. And then Jack grunts, yanking him up and flinging him back onto his ass, pulling off his own clothing. He grabs Rhys' ankles, yanking him closer and forcing the smooth legs up around his neck, teasing Rhys with the oil. He rubs it into the cute, tight scrotum, up into the sensitive skin of the adorable cock, and back down to press his fingers into the perineum. Rhys whines and bucks, complaining that his wrists ache and begging for Jack to give him what he wants.

"You'll never be a devil, you're always an angel to me," Jack whispers, showering Rhys with kisses, finally breaching him with a slick finger, quickly adding a second when Rhys pouts. "Mmmmm so hungry for me...God help me, I love you so much."

Rhys blinks, unsure of what to say as Jack ends the fingering and lines himself up, slowly pushing in and savoring the velvety clutch. Desperation flits across his face but he swallows thickly, allowing Rhys to adjust with a few slow thrusts before finally speeding up with a snarl, baring his teeth at his lover.

"Was this not enough for you? That you had to fuck those dirty scoundrels? A slut straight from the pits of hell, that's what you are, but damn are you still perfect to me," Jack pants.

Then, without warning and despite how amazing Rhys' ass feels, Jack pauses to snatch up a potted candle and dash the wax down onto Rhys' heaving breast.

"AH, JACK!" he cries in pleasurable pain, wincing as Jack watches the maroon streams slowly freeze in their descent down the hairless torso. Jack leans in to cover his mouth with an authoritative hand, shushing him and scowling. 

"Quiet now, can't get caught."

And with that Jack lets loose, fucking Rhys hard enough to knock over some of the candles, which thankfully gutter out before they can set a fire. Rhys screams ever so quietly into the hand, eyes rolling as Jack punishes him for his sins, long fingers clutching at Jack's hairier arm as he pounds him. More wax is dashed down onto Rhys and during the third candle he suddenly cums with a strangled cry, bucking against Jack and driving him over his own edge.

"Rhyssssssss!" he chokes out, slumping forward in a way reminiscent of their very first coupling. "I...I just...will you please come live with me? I love you so much, and I have respectable money, my family's savings could take care of you. We could...be husbands, since you love me back. I don't have a ring yet but...will you marry me? I'd never let you want for anything."

Rhys lets his eyes slide closed as Jack really starts to cry this time, staring down at him with a helpless pleading expression. He sets his jaw and envisions his future mansion, his Ford cars, and his coal factories.

"Please Rhys, love, please. You're everything to me," he whispers, pushing close for a sloppy kiss.

Rhys lets himself pull away, setting his brow as Jack blinks at him in confusion. 

"But I don't love you."

Jack stares, letting the slender legs slip off of his shoulders, face blank for a good five seconds before twisting in pain.

"But...but you said...so many times-"

"I lied, Jack. I wanted to have sex with you. That's all I ever wanted. I'm not as...homosexual as you are I guess."

Jack nods, a bitter look consuming his lost puppy expression.

"This whole time...you haven't come to love me? No feelings whatsoever? I'll leave the priesthood, I promise, we could even adopt a baby if that's what you want!" he tries again in desperation.

"I like you, Jack. But you don't have what I want."

SMACK.

Jack's chest is heaving as he glares at him, hand whipping back to hit Rhys again. And Rhys lets him, scrambling off the table as best he can with his hands still bound.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Jack bellows, snatching for him but missing. "I RISKED EVERYTHING FOR YOU! MY FUCKING LIFE!"

Rhys runs, torn uniform slipping down one of his shoulders as his cold feet beat against the floor.

"Wait...WAIT! Rhys I'm sorry, I shouldn't have hit you, just please come back, I need you," Jack sobs, and Rhys can hear him running down the aisle in pursuit.

He stops as Rhys unlocks the door with his bound hands, watching Jack fall to his knees and stare as the graduated student prepares to leave the broken man behind.

"But I love you," Jack whispers as Rhys exits the sanctuary.

He doesn't look back.

 

 

"TIM!" Jack yells and beats on his brother's door, ignoring the other priests as they glance at his unsightly appearance. "Please Tim, please, I need to talk to you!"

The door finally cracks open and Tim studies him, a 'didn't I tell you this would happen' look slipping onto his freckled face. But he doesn't say anything, simply opening the door and allowing Jack to squeeze him to the point of making him wheeze.

"H-he doesn't want m-me," Jack bawls into Tim's shoulder. Tim grits his teeth, hugging his brother back with an even fiercer squeeze. "He n-never loved me!! I'm so STUPID!"

"I know it hurts Jackie, he used you, how could you have known when you've been couped up in the church your entire life? He played on your naivete. Don't you dare blame yourself, Jack...I'm here. I'm here, Tim Tams is always here," he comforts, using Jack's favorite nickname for him ever since they were five. He draws Jack over to sit next to the fireplace and gives him a pillow to cry into, a determined look on his grim face. "I'll go...fetch some rose water for your eyes."

 

 

 

Rhys packs his things, hastily sweeping his belongings into three simple bags, eager to leave early as his parents had arranged. He opens the drawer that contain Jack's drawings, hesitating before taking his favorite one and gathering the rest, intending on slipping them under the distraught man's door before he leaves.

"So you're leaving then?"

Rhys jumps at the familiar voice, freezing when he sees Tim standing in his doorway, arms crossed and face looking murderous.

"...yes, my train leaves in an hour."

"Good," Tim hisses, advancing on Rhys until the backs of his thighs are pressed against the bed, palms held up in self defense.

"Don't hurt me!" Rhys gasps.

"Oh I'm not going to, though you deserve it. But if I ever, EVER see you again, or if you EVER try to contact my brother, I will castrate you. I swear on God's Holy Bible I will. You KNEW he was vulnerable, having joined the priesthood at eighteen. He knows nothing of relationships and very little of the real world. You couldn't use ME because I know more about relationships than him. So you preyed on him. And you used him. You ought to burn in hell," Tim spits, eyes boring holes into Rhys' very soul.

Rhys scowls, shoving Tim away. 

"Oh please, he's an adult, he damn well seduced ME, he's not innocent. This is hard for me too!"

"Just get out and never contact him again," Tim warns one last time before leaving Rhys alone with his guilt and thoughts, sniffling as he shoulders his bags and leaves, heading for the train that will carry him far away from this mess once and for all.

Out of sight, out of mind, as they always say.


End file.
